Warrior Souls
by LadyRainbow
Summary: The Enterprise crew find themselves replaying the last days of a long dead culture. Can they change the ending? NOW COMPLETE, WITH CH. 13 EPILOGUE.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did, though.

Rating: This chapter is K+. For other chapters, the rating might change.

Warnings: AU

Main Characters: Sato, T'Pol (I always got the feeling Hoshi could come from a family descended from samurais.)

Spoilers: None, but R/S and T/T'P

Reviews and comments needed! Thanks ;)

Warrior Souls

Chapter One

Lieutenant Hoshi Sato sat in the middle of the shaded clearing, concentrating on the symbols on her PADD. The humidity made her break out into a sweat, even here in the shade. Strands of hair kept escaping from the tight bun and her dust-colored uniform did nothing to reflect the intense heat. Aronia Three's year-round temperature was around ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit, even during the winter. She looked at the elegant symbols on the screen and compared them to the inscriptions on the stone walls. The white marble columns reminded her of the old Greek temples, while the colorful pictures were similar to Egyptian hieroglyphs. Together, the effect was amazing.

"_Evatu dr'olio _bekkha," Hoshi murmured to herself. "'In the beginning, there was life...'" She traced the stylized curves and angles of the letters. A week of some old-fashioned head beating had given her some clues to the language. So far, she knew the Aronians' lettering ran from right to left, their pictures clarified meaning, and some of the word roots were similar to ones she'd seen elsewhere. Hoshi brought up a database of Rygillian and programmed a grammar comparison between the two.

She smiled to herself; it wasn't every day that a Starfleet linguist was asked to assist with a major archaeological dig, especially one this major. The head of the team, Doctor Jamilla Yumisa, specifically requested the Enterprise for this particular mission. This was a welcome change from boring patrol duty. At this moment, Captain Archer and Yumisa were in the command tent, while the rest of the team scoured the dig site.

Her communicator chirped and an accented voice said, "Lieutenant Sato, security check-in."

She smiled and opened the comm channel. "Sato, checking in. I'm in Sector One-Three-Four with Sub-Commander T'Pol."

"Are you enjoying yourself, luv?"

Hoshi laughed at Malcolm Reed's question. "I'm sitting beside a temple wall decorated with Aronian characters, Malcolm. Their language is giving me quite a challenge. I think it'll be enough to keep me out of trouble."

He snorted in amusement. She saw, in her mind's eye, the half-smile he usually wore. "Perhaps. Captain Archer and I already had to fish Trip out of the local river...twice. I suppose your morning hasn't been quite as lively."

"What was Trip doing in the river?"

Malcolm sighed and her smile widened at his next words. "Doctor Yumisa found the remains of a bridge at the riverbank. She and Trip were examining the foundations when part of it crumbled away under Trip's feet. Captain Archer dove in after him and saved him the first time. The second time, I managed to pull him to safety before he got in too deep."

"But you guys are all right?" She couldn't help but be worried. Trip had the worst luck planet-side, and the water wasn't exactly on Malcolm's list of favorite places.

"Trip was soaked to the skin, but we're all fine," he reassured her. "I believe Trip was 'madder than a wet hen'."

"That man can't stay out of trouble, can he? Even on an archaeological dig."

Her remark caught the attention of Sub-Commander T'Pol. The Vulcan stood at the end of the temple wall with a scanner in hand. As she turned to face Hoshi, her eyebrow lifted almost to her hairline, and Hoshi swore she rolled her eyes. There was a reason why her fiancé and T'Pol's bondmate were dubbed "The Disaster Twins" by the Enterprise crew.

"Apparently not." Someone shouted in the background and he said, "I have to go, luv...looks like they've discovered another cache of weaponry buried in the general's tomb. See you at lunch?"

Malcolm's tone betrayed his excitement; the Aronians had used a wide variety of weaponry in their endless wars. He had jumped at Doctor Yamisa's request for his help in analyzing the artifacts they'd found. Hoshi knew interest when she heard it.

"Of course. I hope you have enough appetite for dessert."

A year ago, he would have sputtered at the double meaning behind her words. Now, he only chuckled evilly. "I'll make sure of that. Reed, out."

"Sato, out." She flipped the communicator closed and replaced it on her belt.

_He's enjoying himself as much as I am. I'm glad; he's actually playing an active role instead of just hovering in the background. _Granted, that was his job as the Enterprise's Armory Officer, but it was nice to see him use his expertise in a different way.

"Lieutenant? Can you assist me please?"

She glanced up at Sub-Commander T'Pol's voice. The Vulcan stood a few meters away, her own scanner in hand, at the remains of the front wall of the temple. T'Pol's brow was knit in concentration, one of her eyebrows lifted up to her hairline.

"Did you find something?" Hoshi asked as she walked to T'Pol's side.

"Yes, I believe I have found some historical record of the Aronians' final battle. The weapons depicted here match the fragments that Doctor Yumisa and Lieutenant Commander Reed found earlier."

Hoshi leaned forward and examined the pictures carved into the wall. A group of scarlet-clad warriors fought against gray "spirits" with spears, pikes, swords and other weapons she couldn't identify. There were mechanical battle rams and slings, chariot-like vehicles pulled by two-horned animals. ""_uako donn thot, sevo shiann thot..._ _Varon d'agu uako bhalin dho..._We shed blood to defend blood. May the gods grant us victory'," Hoshi translated the inscriptions under the pictures. "They fought to the death, Sub-Commander."

"Indeed." Her mouth twisted in distaste. "I have dated this particular section to approximately five thousand five hundred Earth years ago. This agrees with Doctor Yumisa's previous estimate."

Hoshi nodded and drew her attention to the next scene. Directly above the battle, she saw noblewomen defending their stronghold against those same "spirits". One woman had wrapped a coil of wire around one of the "spirits" and pulled it tight, while a second woman played a harp in the background. A third woman held what looked like a huge black mirror above her head. Hoshi shivered at the unholy glee on the pale features as she captured the enemy with the glass.

"Disturbing," T'Pol said.

Hoshi traced the characters under the women. "'_Warriors, steel your souls for the fight ahead. Forge your passion like your swords.'_ The women had their own methods of warfare, even more brutal than the men, I think."

The Vulcan inclined her head in agreement, even as her golden-brown eyes flashed. "In our history, long before Surak, the women also participated in the major conflicts between the Clans. Some were powerful chieftains themselves, others kept a more...discreet profile. As distasteful the comparison, I do find it particularly apt in this case."

Hoshi nodded at T'Pol's unspoken words. Her world had been at the same crossroads, at about the same time as the Aronians. The Vulcans had embraced logic in time to prevent their destruction; the Aronians had destroyed their own world. Hoshi wondered how history might have been different, had the Aronians renounced their violence.

A gong sounded in the distance and interrupted her musings. "Break time, and not a moment too soon. I'm about the melt in this heat. I don't think even Vulcan was this hot."

T'Pol nodded; her skin was flushed an unusual shade of bronze-green. "A cooler environment will be beneficial for both of us, Lieutenant. The temperature is rather comfortable for me, but the humidity is quite taxing."

They made their way across the dig site. The junior members of Doctor Yumisa's team waved at them as they passed. Hoshi waved back, astounded by the young men and women's enthusiasm, even in tropical heat. Soon the command tent came into view and she sighed in relief as she ducked under the flap.

"Found anything interesting, ladies?" asked Captain Archer. He sat with Doctor Yumisa at a makeshift desk as they examined a long strip of parchment. Hoshi looked over Archer's shoulder and smiled at the characters.

"A treatise on diplomacy, Sir?"

"More like the Aronian version of 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu crossed with Machiavelli's 'The Prince'," Archer replied. "Their basic rules of how to be a commander in war. It includes what they call diplomacy, the big-stick kind."

"I'm wondering if the Aronians did anything else but fight amongst themselves."

Doctor Yumisa laughed, a musical trill that seemed out of place with the tall, broad-shouldered archaeologist. Her dark skin and braided hair reminded Hoshi of the elegant statues of African tribal women. She passed T'Pol a drink _of fasa_ juice and poured another one for Hoshi.

"Actually, they lived life with as much enthusiasm as they ended it. Their art, literature, technology...they threw their whole being into their culture. A pity they couldn't redirect that enthusiasm." Yumisa shook her head. "T'Pol, this mural you found is astounding. It illustrates some of the principles that Jonathan and I were reading about. Hoshi, did you make out the captions underneath it?"

Hoshi nodded and told Yumisa what she had translated. "Who was their enemy? Disembodied spirits?"

"Probably not a literal representation. Their enemy was the _Pr'hada_, translated as 'The Shadows'. The problem is that we have no clue what they looked like or why the Aronians were so hell-bent on wiping them off the face of the planet." Yumisa shrugged. "Malcolm and Trip are at General Hu'fase's tomb right now; maybe they'll find some missing pieces of the puzzle. Hoshi, your fiancé has been a great help to us. You are a lucky woman."

Yumisa, not being Starfleet, called them by their given names and not their ranks. Her open attitude and blunt manner was both refreshing and embarrassing. "Thank you," Hoshi said with blush.

Archer grinned and said, "It's a good change to see him actively participating instead of hovering in the background. I don't think you can drag him out of that tomb. Hu'fase was buried with a virtual armory around him."

"Wonderful. I'll have to pry him out of there at the business end of a torpedo," Hoshi groaned, but she smiled as she said the words. "I don't suppose we could---"

A blast of cold air rushed into the tent scattering the pieces of parchment all over the floor. The temperature dropped several degrees in a matter of seconds. The ground shook under their feet, just before a bang erupted from the heavens.

"What the--" Archer began. "I didn't know the weather could change this fast---"

"It doesn't," Yumisa said shortly. The archaeologist strode over to the tent flap and looked outside, but quickly ducked her head back inside."Storm clouds on the horizon, though. Looks like it'll be a bad one and it's coming fast. You'll have the opportunity to drag Malcolm out without firing any torpedoes, Hoshi. I don't want any of our people caught underground."

Archer nodded. "Come on, let's get Malcolm and Trip before the storm breaks. T'Pol---" He broke off at the expression on T'Pol's features. The Vulcan's eyes had gone glassy, as if she'd gone into a trance. "T'Pol? What's wrong?"

"T'Pol?" Hoshi echoed. Suddenly, those eyes widened in surprise and fear. A mental image of rushing water and fire, a scream that sounded almost human...Hoshi could hear the unspoken words as if T'Pol had screamed them aloud.

_Thy'la...no! _

The ground trembled again and opened up under Hoshi's feet. She stumbled and reached for Captain Archer, who lost his balance and crashed into her. T'Pol's unresisting body slammed into both of them and the three pitched headlong into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's Chapter Two. The Disaster Twins strike again.**

**Reviews/comments needed and appreciated. Thanks.**

**Rating: K+**

Two

"Watch your head there, Commander. It's a tight fit."

Trip Tucker swore as he bumped his head on the stone archway. He rubbed the sore spot and bent lower to enter the tomb. Trip glanced over his shoulder to see Malcolm enter the small room with an eerie grace. Of course, Malcolm didn't have to duck; there were some advantages to having a smaller frame.

"Yeah, thanks for the warnin', Malcolm," Trip said sourly. The dust clung to his wet hair in a sticky film. His unscheduled swim had put him in a foul mood, but he managed a smile. "Thanks, by the way, for getting me out of the water. I knew it wasn't easy for you."

Malcolm shrugged and said, "I was the closest. Besides, I doubt the _tarra_ fish would have appreciated the change in their diet."

"Gee, thanks. I'd probably give them indigestion and they'd spit me out." He grinned and moved aside for Malcolm to join him. Trip saw an amused smile pass over the armory officer's face at the thought.

A man's voice called out from the next chamber. "Commander Tucker? Lieutenant Commander Reed? Over here."

They joined Doctor Harry Llewellyn, Yumisa's assistant. The Welshman's eyes lit up at the sight of Malcolm and Trip. "Gentlemen, take a look at this. This was hidden in a back passage, behind the general's coffin. Seems like he wanted to make sure his soul was doubly protected."

Trip whistled as he glanced at the items stacked neatly in the stone case. He scanned the vials of liquid, the thin strands of metal next to them and the serrated blades around them. "They're all lethal, Doc."

"Needles and poison-tipped blades," Malcolm added. "_Shuriken."_

"What?"

Llewellyn nodded. "Japanese throwing stars, Trip, used by the ninja during the Age of the Samurai. One _shuriken_ in the right place and you wouldn't even know until it was too late. The Aronians obviously had the same idea. It's strange, though."

"What's strange, Doc?"

Llewellyn shrugged. "These are _i'hala_. Women's weapons. They wouldn't normally be buried with a male general, unless either he really wanted to have all his bases covered, or---"

Trip and Malcolm glanced at each other, the meaning clear. "---there's someone else buried here," Malcolm said.

"We scanned this entire area for kilometers around. If there was another tomb, it would've shown up on the scans," Llewellyn murmured. "Another scan wouldn't hurt, though. Maybe it'll pick up something we missed."

Trip nodded. "I'm on it, Malcolm. I'll ask O'Neill to run another scan from Enterprise."

"We'll take another look around here." As Trip ducked back under the doorway and made his way up the steep stone steps, he heard Malcolm ask, "Where exactly did you find this, Harry?"

Trip reached the tomb entrance and flipped open his communicator. "Tucker to Enterprise."

The response was immediate. "Enterprise, Lieutenant Mayweather."

"Travis, where's Lieutenant O'Neill?"

Travis chuckled and replied, "She went down to the Mess Hall for a few minutes. I'm holding down the fort for her till she gets back."

A smile turned his lips. "You ain't sittin' in the captain's chair, are ya?"

"Commander!" Travis sounded offended. "I'll have you know that Lieutenant O'Neill's given me explicit orders. She's a stickler for the rules and anyone who's in charge of the Bridge, no matter how brief, must be present in the center of command."

"You're sittin' in the captain's chair." Trip laughed and shook his head. "I won't tell Malcolm or the captain, I promise. We need another scan of the dig site, extended to about a hundred kilometers past the original borders. Doctor Llewellyn thinks there might be a second tomb hidden somewhere here. We don't want to leave any stone unturned."

"Another one? We'll get on it right away, sir." Travis sounded excited at the prospect of helping in any way possible. Trip grinned at the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Thanks, Travis. Tucker, out." He snapped the communicator closed and turned to re-enter the tomb, when the sky darkened above him. The wind whipped dust into the air; Trip raised his arm to shield his eyes. Lightning flashed and the ground shook under his feet. He swore as he stumbled, out of balance, and slid down the narrow staircase on his rear, tumbling back towards the tomb. He landed in a deep pool of liquid.

Trip spit out salty water as he grabbed the last stone step for balance. He couldn't see inside the small archway. "Malcolm? Harry?"

"Here!" Malcolm yelled. "Harry's unconscious, we need to get him topside!"

Trip took a deep breath and pushed himself through the entranceway. Malcolm was treading water at the back of the chamber, one hand clinging to a stone outcropping, the other hand keeping Llewellyn's head out of the water. He reached Llewellyn first. "He's got a nasty bruise on his temple. I'll help you get him to the stairs."

"The water's rising! Take him; I'm right behind you." Malcolm's voice was tightly controlled, but Trip heard the panic within it. He managed to grab Llewellyn's limp body and they half-dragged, half-floated the archaeologist to the stairs. The water spread quickly to the middle steps; if they didn't leave now, the three of them would drown.

"Bloody damn river," Malcolm growled under his breath. "I hadn't thought the dig site was so close to it. Thought Doctor Yumisa would've been more prudent---"

"You saw the same land surveys I did, Malcolm. We weren't that close. I don't understand how the tomb flooded so easily!" Trip paused as the stairs trembled. "What the hell was that?"

Malcolm's eyes widened. "It sounds like---"

The wall directly next to Trip exploded outward and a rush of water slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. He lost hold of Llewellyn as he tumbled back down. Murky water swirled over his head and threatened to drag him under. Trip's lungs ached for air, but he couldn't tell which was was up or down.

_Thy'la, no!_ T'Pol screamed into his mind. His eyes snapped open at his bondmate's voice. _T'Pol? Ya all right? Where are ya? _His consciousness was starting to dissolve, but he was beyond caring.

_Trip, to your right!_

_What? _His mind was fuzzy, but his body responded. Suddenly, he broke the surface of the water and a blast of cold air hit him in the face. All he could do was let the current take him where it wanted; he had no more strength to fight it. Trip stretched out on his back, floating, his face to the sky.

_It's different_, he thought. The stars shone brightly overhead, twin moons on the horizon. A rainbow of color in the distance, some kind of aurora or nebula. It was beautiful.

He closed his eyes and remembered nothing else.

* * *

It was his worst nightmare come to life. He was going to drown.

Malcolm fought his way through the water and managed to reach air. The river's current swept him downstream so fast that the shore passed by in a blur. He glanced around and realized he was alone.

"Trip!" Malcolm screamed, but the engineer was nowhere in sight. Again, the swirling water yanked him underneath; he reached out blindly and a tree branch snagged the sleeve of his uniform. Malcolm pushed himself upward and collided with a thick tree trunk. It jutted out from the shore, solid in place, in spite of the rushing current. Malcolm grabbed hold of it, but he couldn't get himself up on the trunk. He tried to push away the panic as long minutes passed and there was no sign of Trip.

Malcolm clung to the tree with all his strength, but his fingers were losing their hold. He clenched his hands around the tree branch as random thoughts ran through his brain. He needed to hang on, ride out the storm, soon Captain Archer and Hoshi and T'Pol would realize they were missing and launch a search.

But he was so cold and so tired...his eyes started to drift shut, his body becoming a dead weight...

_Hoshi, my love..._His grip slipped, but just before the current swept him away from safety, a gloved hand seized hold of him. He barely registered the shouting and cursing above him, the pounding on his back, a mug of something hot being forced to his lips. His vision swam into focus.

"What---?" he whispered.

"You'll be all right," a rough voice said. Malcolm frowned; the words didn't sound right, but he recognized them all the same. "Those charges destroyed the bridge; your handiwork knocked fifteen of them into the river. They're gone...we've stopped their charge cold, thanks to you."

He looked up at the speaker. The man's face was seamed with scars, his long golden-brown hair tied back into a neat ponytail, his eyes bright with triumph and worry. Those eyes caught Malcolm's attention...they were familiar, for some reason, though the face was different. Then he remembered something, long ago, pictures on a funerary tomb...

_The same eyes. Green. The man's body surrounded by an arsenal of ancient weaponry..._

"General..." he rasped, unable to believe it.

The eyes narrowed in mild reproach. "I'd appreciate it though, if you'd stop trying to throw yourself into harm's way so often. I still need you, whether you believe it or not. If you'd died doing something stupid, your lady wife would kill you again, then set her claws into me. That reminds me...we found our just-as-suicidal Builder downstream. He's worse off than you, but he'll survive. He's tough, but you trained him that way, didn't you?"

Malcolm could only nod, his thoughts still in a daze. This had to be some kind of hallucination. _That's it, some kind of fevered dream, I have to be in shock..._

The general nodded back, then got back to his feet. "Take him back to the fortress, tell his lady he needs some special care." His words brought snickers and catcalls from the men around them. "As for you, Weaponsmaster, I expect to see you bright and early in the morning around the tactician's table. Understand?"

Malcolm stared at him as he turned on his heel and walked away. A sickening feeling came over him as he realized this was no fever dream; the general truly believed he was an Aronian Weaponsmaster.

_What in Heaven's name have I gotten into?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Rating: K+**

**Okay, had a few crazy ideas for this chapter...the crew is completely within the past. Can you tell who is who? (Couple of inside jokes, plus the appearance of another Enterprise character. Clue: This guy was in another one of my ENT fics.) **

**Reviews and comments always appreciated. Thanks! ;)**

Three

She went from a deep sleep to full awareness in the space of a breath. A slight breeze touched the silk curtains around her bed. Shadows fell across the curtain, dancing in the wind. She pushed them aside and saw the figure at the far end of the room. The other woman's long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, a contrast to the dark blue robe and green sash.

_What is it, Joh'leen? Are we under attack?_

_We have intruders, Leen'da. Five of them, scaling the walls. We must be ready. _Leen'da nodded at the other's telepathic orders and slipped out of bed. Leen'da was smaller than her friend, with dark hair, and eyes. People often called them "Night and Day", and she thought it was fitting.

She located her special pouch of knives by touch and attached it to her sash. Then she melted back into the shadows as soft scraping noises came from the window. Metal upon stone. Grappling hooks.

The first intruder hauled himself up and over the window sash. His feet hit the marble floor without a sound. Leen'da saw his outline in the light of the double moons. Gray hood, tall and broad-shouldered, muscular build. As he checked the perimeter of the room, his deliberate movements reminded her of a different memory, in a different time.

_He moves like a MACO, _she thought. She frowned to herself. _Like a what? Where did _that_ come from? _Then the image of a sea creature, a vicious fish, came to her. These people used it as a symbol, and appropriately so. Silent, but deadly hunters.

But so was she. She was trained from birth to be a hunter. The man she loved was of the same kind. A grim smile quirked upon her lips; if only he was here to see her now! _This one is mine, Joh'leen. _

_Very well, I will take care of the two after him._

The man froze in position. Just before he raised his hand, Leen'da's knife sliced through the air and buried itself into his shoulder. He staggered back, eyes locked in agonized fury. Leen'da's right leg shot out and put him down with a foot sweep. He fell heavily on his side with a muffled cry. With one smooth motion, she plunged her blade between his shoulders. The man shuddered once, then went limp.

Leen'da looked up and saw Joh'leen had already dispatched her two assailants. The last two were just climbing into the window. The fourth man launched himself at Leen'da; she saw that this one was more skilled than the first intruder, more determined. His steely gaze caught hers, and again, she felt that strange sense of deja vu, the feeling that she knew this man.

And in that time, he had been a friend. A friend who had saved her life, at the cost of his own.

But now, he was the enemy.

He smirked, his hand beckoning her forward. Leen'da answered with a slow smile. He was unarmed; she slid her remaining knife into her sash. _Empty hands, then. Perhaps I should save him for the Weaponsmaster...no, not this time. Perhaps in the next life, they will seek combat against each other. In this life, he is _mine

Slowly, they circled each other in a lethal dance. Then he struck out with the flat of his hand. She ducked and kicked out, aiming for the back of his knee, but he anticipated her move and slid out of the way. They fought that way for a long time: striking, retreating, gauging each other's strengths and weaknesses. Leen'da suddenly realized she had to end the fight quickly; he was only keeping her occupied.

_Enough of this charade. _She feinted with her right hand, then brought her left fist across his throat. The edge of her ring scratched his skin as she jumped away from him. His eyes widened in shock and surprise as he fell to his knees before her, his right hand at his throat. The poison in her ring flowed swiftly through him, but Leen'da saw the calm resignation in his eyes.

"_Ni'shala buina, " _she hissed at him. "Go to hell, Shadow."

And remarkably, he managed a smile. "I'll be waiting," he rasped out, then he toppled forward onto his face. Leen'da checked the pulse point at his temple, but there was none..

She looked up at Joh'leen, who nodded her approval. The fifth and last assailant lay at her feet, limp."There are more coming. I suggest we alert the others and make our stand here."

Leen'da sighed and turned her back on the fallen man. "They chose a time when the General was out in the field. They chose wrongly."

Joh'leen inclined her head. "Indeed they did," she replied.

* * *

The other members of the household hid in their assigned sectors, behind curtains, tapestries and false walls. Leen'da pressed herself against the stones in the courtyard; she refused to barricade herself in a small space. It was easier for her to fight in open territory. Enclosed areas made her pulse race and her hands shake. At her right was Jo'leen; at her left was Yum'sa, a young courtesan from the far south. The dark-skinned woman watched the courtyard entrance with the single-mindedness of a hawk. 

Then Yum'sa glanced at her and her hands conveyed the information: ten, perhaps eleven. Closing fast. Leen'da nodded and readied her knife. She had one chance to get this right...

Joh'leen straightened as the men came closer. Then her calm voice rang over the courtyard. "Open the gates! General Mu'fase comes!"A relieved sigh came over the women as the Aronian forces returned to the fortress. Leen'da's eyes widened as she saw an unconscious man being carried on a litter. Joh'leen ran directly for him, kneeling at his side.

"It seems that our Master Builder got himself into trouble yet again," a quiet voice said. "We found him floundering in the river. I don't think he's seriously injured, but I think he needs some attention." General Hu'fase strode up to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Will you care for him? We need him on his feet as soon as possible."

"Yes, General," Joh'leen said. "He will be at your side again soon."

"Good." Hu'fase turned his head and found Leen'da. A rare smile flashed across his face and he extended his hands to her. She walked over and took them. Hu'fase was her mentor, the one who convinced her to join his family, the one who provided her with the strength and fortitude. She owed much to him: her life and her love.

His smile softened as he read her thoughts and his strange green eyes held just the barest hint of sympathy. "Your husband succeeded in his mission, Leen'da, but he, too, was swept away by the current---"

"Where is he?" she interrupted, her heart tightening at the thought of the Weaponsmaster in the river. He hated the water; drowning was his greatest fear. "Is he alive? Is he--?" she broke off, remembering to whom she was talking. "Forgive me, General---"

Hu'fase didn't seem offended by her questions. "He lives, but he must have taken a blow to the head; he's very confused. He couldn't remember what he'd done or even who he is. He needs rest, but like the Master Builder, I need him by my side, the sooner the better."

For the first time that night, her bright smile held no malice in it. "I will do what I can to make him remember."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**The plot gets complicated. Somewhat complicated.**

**Rating: Closer to a K+/M this time, I think.**

Four

Trip's eyes flickered open, but the pain in his head was too great. He let them drift back shut and concentrated on his breathing. _Where am I? What's going on? I can't even think straight._

A cool hand stroked his forehead. "You have been injured. Rest."

The voice, the words, and the intonation sounded familiar. "T'Pol?"

The hand hesitated for a brief moment. "You are delirious with fever, love. Just rest."

He allowed himself to drift off. Images and memories came through his mind. Jon Archer, how they'd met while working on the NX program, how Jon had saved his life in the Outback. Trip had been hurt, and Jon had slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, rushing for cover as arrows rained all around them...

_Arrows? That's not right..._More memories surfaced, memories not completely his own...his own wedding, in the light of the twin moons, holding her hands as the priestess blessed their union, feeling his wife's cool, steady presence in his mind. This was right, not like the first time, when he'd stood aside with an aching heart and watched her marry someone else...

Shore leave at a beautiful place, he and a dark-haired man...Trip remembered his name, it was Malcolm Reed, the Armory officer. They'd gotten attacked, tied up and left for dead, but they'd escaped and tracked their assailants down, and he shuddered as he remembered the smirk on his friend's face and the looks of sheer terror on theirs, as Malcolm administered his own brand of "justice"...

He cried out and sat bolt upright in bed. "What the hell! Where am I? This ain't right---"There was movement next to him, and a warm body pressed against his. Hands touching his shoulders, finding the neuropressure points and siphoning off the tension.

"The nightmares have returned." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah..." he muttered as he pressed a hand over his eyes.

"You are a sensitive soul, my love. Seeing so much death affects you more than the others. You are a Builder, not a Destroyer, but you are strong. Look deep inside you, find the Strength." The husky voice dipped lower. "And I am here. I will never leave you."

Trip opened his eyes and saw the speaker for the first time. Long blonde-brown hair, elegantly swept eyebrows, amber eyes set in a beautiful face. He stared at her for a long minute, then touched her cheek with a gentle hand. "Wait a sec..I know you..."

A ghost of a smile was on her lips. "You remember."

"Yes," he whispered. "I remember." He pulled her to him and kissed her, shutting out everything except the two of them. The questions could wait.

* * *

All Malcolm had were questions and more questions. He was exhausted, but he couldn't shut off his mind. Instinct told him not to relax, not to take this world in truth, or he would be lost. _I must admit, it would be easy to do so. _He turned his head and looked down at the woman in his arms. Her soft, even breathing told him she was finally asleep. They had spent hours just talking. He listened as she proudly told him how she had dispatched their enemy, then in the same breath, chastise him about nearly getting killed again.

She sounded just like Hoshi and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was her. This woman resembled his fianceè to a startling degree, both physically and personality-wise. Malcolm sighed; when the talking was over, she had shown him just how much she had missed him. It had taken all of his control to separate a part of him from his body, not to give in to the siren's song.

But it had been so tempting. He nearly had.

_Be objective. See it as an investigation and look at the clues. Obviously, we've been transported to Aronia's past, playing out roles of people dead for five thousand years. You are Dom'ni, Weaponmaster to General Hu'fase, Supreme Commander of the Aronian forces. The war is going badly for us and soon it will be the final battle. It will be us or them._

He shivered; he knew what the outcome would be. Neither side won; they had destroyed each other.

He glanced down at her. _Leen'da, the Weaponmaster's wife, married for five seasons, in charge of the General's household. Hu'fase brought her into his House, raised her just like a daughter. _Malcolm chuckled; it sounded just like the history between Hoshi and Jon Archer. So the relationships between the players were similar to those on the Enterprise. Hu'fase had mentioned a "Master Builder". That had to be Trip, and from what the general had implied, this Master Builder was as accident prone as Trip.

"What's so funny?"

He started. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was. You woke me up."

"I'm sorry---"

"Don't be." She raised her head and flashed him a brilliant smile. "You don't laugh as much anymore and it makes me happy when you do."

"I'm glad." He tightened his arms around her. "The General wants me at his side tomorrow morning."

"Which is where you should be, love." Her tone became impish and her eyes sparkled with humor. "I know better than to be jealous of you two, with as much time as you spend together on the field." The wicked jibe made him laugh again, and her smile widened. "Besides, I know where your desires lie. You demonstrated it quite ably not too long ago."

Malcolm's face flushed crimson at her boldness. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "In all seriousness, there is something you should know, if---" Her voice failed for a moment, then she pushed on, "---if you fall in the battle ahead."

"What should I know?" he asked gently.

"If it will ease your mind, a part of you will go on." She moved his hand to her abdomen. "I am carrying your child."

Malcolm blinked. Blinked again. His mouth moved, but he couldn't speak.

_Oh bloody hell. Bloody, freaking hell._

_

* * *

_

General S'kott Hu'fase sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. _I need another haircut, but it can wait until we've won,_ he thought. The burst of optimism faded as quickly as it came. A sense of foreboding took its place; there had to be a way to end this war, once and for all, without more massive casualties among his men. There had to be, but what was it?

He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. At least his Weaponmaster and Master Builder were alive and with their respective mates. Hu'fase wondered if Leen'da had told the Weaponsmaster the wonderful news yet. It made the general even more determined to win this war. The son or daughter of two of his closest friends deserved to live in a world of peace.

"Damn Shadows," he muttered. "They strike and retreat, no pattern and no rhyme or reason. They burn our villages and steal our livelihood. Now they surround us in their trap. This has gone long enough. I must end it before they weaken us just by attrition."

He was tempted to break tradition and have Joh'leen and the other women on the front lines, but that wouldn't do at all. They were the Aronians' secret line of defense, and if Joh'leen was in battle, Leen'da would follow, and endanger her unborn child. That was unacceptable.

_This damn war has taken my father and his father before him. I _must_ end it. _A soft noise caught his attention and his head shot up from the map was reading. One of his stewards stepped into the room and bowed in respect.

"My apologies, General, but your staff is ready to assemble for the morning strategic meeting."

"Is it time already?" Hu'fase sighed and took another deep breath. "Are the Master Builder and the Weaponsmaster among them?"

"Not yet, my lord, but they send word that they are on their way."

"Good. Distribute the morning meal to those already present. As soon as my two advisers arrive, we will begin. Oh, and carry a basket of sayo fruit to the lady Leen'da and please make sure she eats it."

The steward smiled and said, "Yes, General." He bowed again and left. Hu'fase gathered up his various maps and papers and tried to put himself in the right frame of mind, but the niggling sense of doom refused to leave him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**The two worlds continue to collide with each other...**

**Rating: K+**

Five

Leen'da went on her rounds around the General's stronghold. She smiled as her women went about their daily tasks: the dyeing of wool in the fabric vats, the caring of the children, the storage of food in the larders. Previous sieges had taught her that one could never put away too many supplies for her people.

In spite of the uncertainty, Leen'da made sure that music and festivities echoed down the halls. Someone was always celebrating a naming day or a special occasion. The festivals came almost one right after the other: Maiden's Festival, the General's birthday, Ancestor's Prayer Day...Leen'da found the never-ending preparations a welcome distraction.

"My lady? The household is gathered for your instructions," said the young steward. The tow-headed boy smiled up at her. "Are we still going to have the Festival of the Goddess like we always do, my lady? It would be a pity if we don't have the music and the games and---"

She laughed at his childish rambling. "Come here, By'var. Of course, the Festival will go on as scheduled. The Shadows haven't destroyed our sense of fun, have they?"

The boy laughed. "No, my lady. We'll beat them like we always do, then we'll have all the festivals we wish, eh?"

Leen'da chuckled and tousled his short hair. "Bring them up here, then, and we shall begin," she replied.

The steward disappeared and returned with the women of the clan. Leen'da assigned them their tasks, swiftly dividing the workload according to their strengths and talents. After she made sure they understood their duties, she dismissed them with a gentle word. Then she headed towards the Players' Hall for her next goal: arranging the order of the music for the gathering.

The faint sound of a harp caught her attention. She frowned as she listened to the notes; they were atonal, harsh, nothing like the smooth rhythms of normal Aronian music. Leen'da closed her eyes and let the music lead her deeper into the stronghold, away from the light. The notes gave way to syllables, and then to words.

_Who are you? What is your name? Where is your true heart?_

"What kind of questions are those?" she whispered back. "I know who I am."

The words touched off a sense of unease. She was Leen'da, and Dom'ni was her true heart. Hu'fase was her adoptive father, and Jo'leen like a sister. Master Builder Kan'nar was like a protective older brother, always concerned about her welfare, especially after he'd heard about her early pregnancy...

_Who are you? What is your name? Where is your true heart?_

"I've told you," she shot back. "Who are you? Show yourself!" She withdrew her trusty dagger from her sash as she followed the notes up a flight of stone steps. "Riddles belong to the Shadows. I know the truth."

_Do you? Perhaps you are only living a dream. The voice was not unkind, but there was an edge to it. I can show you how to save yourself and your child, if you will open your mind._

"Just myself?" Her smile turned sardonic. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, according to the Rules of War."

_The Rules of War? The silent voice mocked her. You have heard that elsewhere. You refuse to remember. Very well, I will leave you now, but I will return, Hoshi Sato. Forget now, for you are not ready for your true name...or your true life._

She blinked and shook her head. The music had stopped and she found herself in a more familiar part of the stronghold. What was she doing here? Her mind was filled with cobwebs; what had she been doing? Then she recalled the preparations for the Festival...she was going to consult the musicians. She blew out a relieved sigh. Obviously, the tension was starting to get to her as well; it wouldn't be good for the child.

The thought of her child made her smile. She put a protective hand on her stomach and made her way towards her destination. A chorus of voices stopped her, this time the cadence was familiar. Leen'da reversed direction, heading towards the shouts.

She turned the corner and entered a large gymnasium, climbing the steps to the balcony that overlooked the main arena. Joh'leen led the noblewomen in their daily calisthenics. They stretched their muscles, then went into drills and techniques. Their hands and feet were blurs as they sparred and feinted against each other. Another pair grappled each other while standing on a narrow beam that was a few fingers wide. Still another group threw blades at targets set up across the arena.

Leen'da sighed. What kind of world would her child see? _Your father will make it safe for you, little one. We will protect you with our lives, if need be. He will train you in defense, as he trained me and the others. _Another memory came to her, one that both warmed and puzzled her at the same time:

_They were in a large room. She had finished her own exercises; now she faced him across an open space. He watched her with neutral blue-gray eyes, but she could feel the amusement rolling off him in waves. She had a black belt in aikido; perhaps she could teach him a move or two._

_And perhaps she could wipe that obnoxious smirk, the one that lurked near his lips. _

"Are you ready, Ensign?"

_She nodded. "I'm ready. I hope you've brace yourself for the worst, Lieutenant."_

_That smirk finally blossomed on his face, but he said nothing as they circled each other on the mat. She answered with a smirk of her own...he had no idea what "the worst" involved._

She blinked. What was that? The first time she had trained with Dom'ni, she was unsure of her skills. His confidence and his intensity had unnerved her, but eventually, she realized that was how he was_. Ensign? Lieutenant? _Her mind stumbled on the unfamiliar words. They sounded like titles, like Weaponmaster or Master Builder...

You refuse to remember. Remember what? Leen'da scowled and put a hand to her temple. Was she overtired? That must be it...the stress of pregnancy, the uncertainty of the war against the Shadows, the worry about her husband...

"Leen'da, are you well? You look rather preoccupied."

She sighed and glanced at Joh'leen, who stood next to her. Her mind must have been truly distracted, if her hearing hadn't picked up Joh'leen's movement. Such lapses could be fatal. "I was just thinking. How is Kan'nar? Is he all right?"

Joh'leen had a small smile on her face. "Yes, he is. I was concerned about the dreams he was having while he was feverish...such strange visions, indeed, but then the fever broke. He still needed assistance to sleep, but he seemed more like himself this morning."

Her words brought Leen'da up short. She turned to face her friend directly. "Visions? What kind of visions?"

Joh'leen brought her attention back to the women on the practice floor. Her eyebrows were knitted in a strange expression. Leen'da only waited until she chose to speak. "Visions of another time, of other places, of other people. I couldn't understand most of his ramblings, but he seemed to believe he wasn't...where he was supposed to be."

"Delusional? That doesn't sound like Kan'nar. At least," she amended, "Kan'nar, when he isn't on medicinal herbs or under the Healers' magic touch.."

Her flippant remark made Joh'leen chuckle. "Whatever ailed him was gone by the morning. General Hu'fase summoned him for a strategic meeting. And so, that is where he is." Joh'leen gave her a sideways look. "Something else is bothering you. What is it?"

Leen'da sighed and looked down at the floor for a moment. Then she pushed forward with her question. "Tell me, my friend, have you ever had...premonitions? Dreams that you know, but don't?"

Joh'leen raised an eyebrow, causing Leen'da to smile. _I must ask her how she manages to do that. That truly takes skill. _That smile vanished as she realized Joh'leen was taking her words seriously. "It is true that the Temple says such things exist, but I find it difficult to put my belief in...smoke and mirrors. I must see it with my own eyes, touch it with my own hands, to verify it is real."

"I knew you would say something like that. You've always been quite rational, Joh'leen."

"Have you had any of these...visions?"

Leen'da said nothing for a long moment. She drew her attention back to the women as they went through their paces. "I'm...not sure," she replied. She told her friend about her bouts of deja vu, about the strange waking dream she had experienced on the way to the gymnasium, with her as an "ensign" and the unfamiliar "lieutenant".

The eyebrow arched higher, if that was even possible. "Did you know the man in your dream?"

"I have the feeling that I was..am..very close to him. Intimately so." She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she said the words, "but I didn't recognize him at all."

They both fell into silence, as they listened to the ring of steel, the cheers as the women encouraged each other. Leen'da shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Joh'leen noticed and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She managed a smile; Joh'leen was even more reserved than Dom'ni at his worst, so this was an unusual surprise.

"A mental attack," Joh'leen finally said in a low voice. "The Shadows are adept in trickery, clouding the mind, causing confusion. That has to be it. They want us to doubt ourselves and our place. Think, Leen'da...has there been anyone else, besides you and Kan'nar, who have had these...lapses? Any obvious changes in behavior in the household?"

She winced. Of course, Joh'leen was thinking about this logically and tactically. It was something her husband would do...the unease in the pit of her stomach threatened to become full-blown panic. "General Hu'fase had said last night that Dom'ni couldn't remember who he was or what he had done to the bridge yesterday. The General believed that perhaps he'd hit his head in the explosion, or when he was in the river..."

Her voice trailed off. Joh'leen raised an eyebrow. "Similar to Kan'nar's condition, when Hu'fase had retrieved him..."

"And he was withdrawn last night, as if he was keeping his distance from me, hiding something. That isn't like Dom'ni at all."

Joh'leen's mouth tightened as she digested the information. "Do you think that both of them have been affected by the same attack? Something the Shadows may have done to them?"

"He didn't tell me the Shadows had done anything to him."

"He might not remember if they had," Joh'leen pointed out, "and neither would Kan'nar. We should alert the general about this."

Leen'da stared at the woman warriors as they finished their training routines. "Is that wise? It would destroy the men's morale if there are doubts about their Weaponsmaster's and their Master Builder's sanity. Hu'fase needs all the allies and the support he can get now."

Joh'leen was silent as they watched the women leave the gymnasium for their daily tasks. In a moment, the two of them were alone on the balcony overlooking the practice arena. "You have a valid point," she admitted. "Then we should keep a close eye on the two, and if the situation warrants it, we will tell the general."

She nodded unhappily. "Yes, but only if the situation warrants it."

"I have friends at the Temple who might be able to help us. Can you get away for a time?"

Leen'da nodded. "Yes, I can do that during the afternoon meal."

"Good. Meet me in the front courtyard at the meal bell." Joh'leen took a deep breath and let it out. "The situation is more complicated than it appears. I only pray we can stop the Shadows in time."

* * *

The day passed slowly, too slowly for Leen'da's liking. There was no word from the General's Council, save for a request for food to be sent to them. Her kitchen staff took care of it without any interference on her part. So she was free to meet Joh'leen at the courtyard.

"Draw the hood of your cloak over your head," Joh'leen instructed. "It would do us no good to be recognized." Leen'da did as ordered, and they both left the stronghold and headed for the Temple.

The town lay at the foot of the fortress, the pointed red and blue roofs jutting out like waves. Beyond were the crop fields, and the row of sentry stations, and finally, the tall stone wall that surrounded General Hu'fase's stronghold. The people went along their tasks; even in wartime, life still continued like it always did. If the General's forces were victorious, this would continue for the rest of time.

The Temple was bustling with petitioners, all asking the Gods and Goddesses for victory against the Shadows. A quartet of musicians filled the space with meditative music. Leen'da noticed a team of artisans painting new scenes on the western wall. She narrowed her eyes at the scene of a battle, the men on foot, the women above, all defending the fortress. The words underneath:

"'_Uako donn thot, sevo shiann thot..._ _Varon d'agu uako bhalin dho..._We shed blood to defend blood. May the gods grant us victory'," she whispered. It was the last line of the Rules of War. General Hu'fase's favorite quote. He had often said that he'd wanted it inscribed on the walls of his own tomb.

His tomb...she pushed the morbid thought away from her consciousness. Of course, her mentor would die of a ripe old age, be buried with all of his weapons, outlive all of his household, join his dearest friends in the Afterlife...

"Lady Leen'da, Lady Joh'leen," said the Priestess. The woman materialized in front of her, startling her out of her thoughts. Aronian priestesses all looked the same to her; the same gentle, wrinkled faces, the same sweet smiles. This one was no exception. The Priestess bowed to her and added, "I see that the Goddess has blessed you, Lady Leen'da. May happiness come to you and your house."

"Thank you, madam," she answered. There was little you could hide from a Priestess, and just as she thought the words, she saw the smile transform into a sober expression.

"You have troubles, my Lady, to walk all the way here in your condition. Please, both of you step inside my chamber, and tell me."

Joh'leen nodded and withdrew the hood from her face. "It concerns the Shadows---"

The Priestess raised a hand. "Not here. Follow me."

They withdrew deeper into the Temple. Leen'da shivered as a sense of dread came over her, and it wasn't reassuring when she saw it mirrored on Joh'leen's elegant features.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I wish I did.**

**Notes: It's been a little while since I've updated this one...had a few ideas percolating, amid the espressos, red eyes, pumpkin spice and mocha frappaccinos. It's all gonna come to a turning point soon...**

**Six**

Malcolm scowled down at the tactical map on the table in front of him. Scouts from the front had been reporting in all day, relaying information in bits and pieces. It was his task to put those pieces into a unified whole. He looked at the physical features of the land, the known positions of the Shadows and the location of their defenses. There were many differences from that planetary scan from the _Enterprise_, so long ago. Or was that "so far away in the future"? He ran a tired hand over his face; it was harder to keep himself separate from this world.

_At least some things are beginning to make sense, _he thought. The river, in this time, was closer to them. In fact, the area where the archaeological team had found Hu'fase's tomb was currently covered with meters of river water, silt and mud. That was how the tomb had flooded so easily, when he and Trip had been swept to the past.

Speaking of Trip...he glanced over his shoulder at Kan'nar, the Master Builder. That man bore a remarkable resemblance to Trip, if Trip had ever become a true redhead, and grown a couple of more inches. That put him at a height even with Captain Archer---Hu'fase, Malcolm reminded himself---and right now, both men were poring over a series of sketches.

"I've never seen this design before," Kan'nar was saying. "I can't even tell you what the Shadows might use this for. It doesn't seem to be a device for transport or a kind of catapult..."

Hu'fase turned to the exhausted scout who stood in front of them. "You said that they have already built several of these...platforms?"

"Yes, My Lord," the scout murmured, his voice laden with exhaustion. "At least five...perhaps more. None of the scouts saw them used...they found us before we got a chance, but I think they were trying to get them in position as quickly as they could."

"Thank you, Scout. Get yourself some food and rest. We'll need your services again soon." Hu'fase dismissed the scout, then beckoned Malcolm closer. "Dom'ni, take a look at this. Can you tell what this might be?"

Malcolm nodded and moved next to Kan'nar. The Master Builder grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad to see you up and about, Weaponsmaster."

"You too." Malcolm managed a smile, then glanced down at the hastily compiled sketches. The platforms were on rollers, with a slim, cylindrical attachment at the top, propped up at a strange angle. There was a set of concentric rings at the top of the cylinder, and another set at its base, and a rectangular box at the back of the platform.

He recognized the shape._ A missile launcher? The Shadows managed to invent a missile launcher? How? There's nothing I've seen that would have any indication they have any such technology..._the implications made his head swim. That meant someone was interfering with the native Aronians, someone was trying to destroy their civilization.

The question was, Who?

Then he realized both Hu'fase and Kan'nar were waiting for his answer. Malcolm phrased it carefully. "My Lord, I believe...it's a kind of weapon. A free-standing catapult, so to speak. This projectile has the ability to destroy everything within a large area. Not even stone defenses can withstand it."

Hu'fase frowned and said, "It's just a simple cylinder, how can it destroy a large area of---"

Kan'nar glanced up with a disturbed expression. "Remember those charges Dom'ni used on the Bridge, General?"

"Yes...as I remember, that was a precise mixture of explosive elements, ones that only we possess."

"What if you pack that cylinder with those 'explosive elements', and throw it from a catapult-like device at your enemy? Wherever it landed---" Kan'nar mimed a huge "boom".

Hu'fase turned pale. He turned to Dom'ni and said in a quiet voice, "You assured me that no one else had it, that it was all up here---" he tapped the side of his forehead.

Malcolm nodded as he drew upon memories not his own. "That I did. All I can say is that the Shadows are evidently quick learners."

"Or they had help." Hu'fase's gaze at him was unnerving.

"I would never betray you, My Lord. I would never betray my wife...or my unborn child."

Hu'fase's stare wavered for a moment, then he nodded briskly. "I believe you. Now...both of you, do you think we can duplicate these...free standing catapults and their deadly projectiles?"

Kan'nar narrowed his eyes at the sketches and Malcolm could see the wheels turning in his head. Yes, he was so much like Trip. _Give him a new toy to play with and we lose him. _The Master Builder nodded slowly. "I think so, General. We have to start immediately; we don't know how soon the Shadows will use these."

"Then get your men together, Master Builder and begin. Dom'ni---"

"My Lord, I wish to consult with you in private, please."

Again, Hu'fase gave him a penetrating look. "Very well. Go ahead, Kan'nar. We will follow shortly."

Kan'nar nodded and went out without a backward glance. Hu'fase turned to face Malcolm. "What's on your mind, Weaponsmaster?"

Malcolm turned back to the sketches and tapped the base of the "projectile launcher" with his finger. "If Kan'nar is right, and these are filled with explosives, they're vulnerable. What if a single person attaches a charge here, then lights it? The whole thing would go up in flames, as well as anything around it."

The general thought about it, then a smile crept across his face. "Any way to make an explosion, eh, Dom'ni?"

"Well...they wouldn't have any platforms to launch their weapons from, once they go 'boom'."

They both chuckled at the joke, then Hu'fase sobered. "It would deprive them of their advantage, but if you're anywhere in the area when it explodes, you're a dead man. Leen'da would flay me alive if you die---"

"It would be an honorable death, then," Malcolm said in a quiet tone. "My wife knows the risks of my position. She would understand...and at least I've left her a child to remember me by." He winced inwardly at the brave words, but he pressed on. "And it could be the turning point of the war, one that will save our civilization."

Hu'fase sighed and turned away from him. Malcolm could see the tenseness in his shoulders, the silent shudder in the large frame. Strangely enough, Malcolm felt nothing but a calm peace. This was the turning point, he could feel it. No matter what happened to him, they would all be safe.

That is, if he succeeded in what he needed to do.

Finally, the general turned to look back at him. There was no sign of the moral struggle on his face, just a cool expression. "Very well, Weaponsmaster. Take whatever supplies and whoever you need. Go quickly...the sooner you destroy their weapons, the sooner this war can be ended."

"Yes, My Lord. Thank you." Malcolm bowed to him and went past Hu'fase to leave the tent. Before he made it outside, Hu'fase put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"No, it is I who should thank you, Dom'ni." He hesitated, then asked, "What should I tell Leen'da?"

"Tell her...tell her I love her and I'll see her...soon."

Hu'fase nodded, his eyes full of sorrow. "I'll do that."

Malcolm smiled and left the tent, his mind racing ahead to his mission, what he would need to do, what equipment he would need. At that moment, he was no longer Malcolm Reed, but Dom'ni the Weaponsmaster.

* * *

Kan'nar the Master Builder kept himself busy with the construction of the weapons platforms. Hu'fase had come by to tell him about the Weaponsmaster's mission. The general didn't have to say it aloud: it was a suicide mission and Dom'ni was probably not coming back. Kan'nar ranted about how Dom'ni was trying to kill himself again and that he needed someone to go along to make sure "he doesn't get himself into trouble."

Hu'fase gave him a sad smile. "I need you here, Kan'nar. If he doesn't succeed, we need these inventions of yours as a last defense. You have your duty, Master Builder. The Weaponsmaster has his. There is no room for negotiation."

Those last six words echoed the seriousness of their plight. Kan'nar swallowed and replied, "I understand, My Lord, even though I don't like it much."

Hu'fase sighed; only Kan'nar could say that and get away with it. The Master Builder had known the general for years; he knew he could tell Hu'fase the truth and not be punished.

"Neither do I, but it's all in the hands of the Gods now. I trust you and your men won't let us down."

"No, My Lord. I'll do my part." And Kan'nar had pushed his men to their limits. At the edge of the hills, Dom'ni's men were mixing the explosives according to Dom'ni's specifications. For his part, Kan'nar hadn't seen the Weaponsmaster; he assumed Dom'ni was already on his way to wherever the Shadows were.

_He's always acting as if he has a death wish. Doesn't he want to see his child come to adulthood? Doesn't he want to live to an old age with Leen'da? _Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't possible. This war took so many lives; it was only luck they were all alive now, and if Dom'ni didn't succeed...Kan'nar sighed. At least Joh'leen would protect Leen'da to her last breath.

The ground shuddered faintly under his feet. Kan'nar's head snapped up, but his men didn't seem to notice. He chalked it up to his overworked imagination and walked over to oversee their progress.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Thanks to the people at WC5 (Warp Complex 5) and their database on the Enterprise characters, with information compiled from the series. That's where I got the bit about Jon Archer's great-grandfather in North Africa during the Eugenics Wars (mentioned in "Hatchery") and Malcolm's great-uncle on the HMS Clement (mentioned in "Minefield"). Had to figure a way to squeeze Trip Tucker and Travis Mayweather's ancestors in there somewhere too...**

**This chapter re-introduces another Enterprise character...and you'll either love him or hate him.**

**Rating:T**

**Seven**

Leen'da sat in front of a line of fragrant candles, her hands clasped in her lap. The flickering flames mesmerized her; light and shadow chasing each other, so much like her life and her world.

"Are you ready, my Lady? It may be uncomfortable for you, if you are not completely grounded."

She nodded and felt the Priestess's hand on her left cheek. Joh'leen's cool fingers spread over her right cheek. Immediately, she felt a sense of disorientation and a rising panic. Mental discipline took over; she forced herself to control her breathing and heartbeat. Slowly, she floated free, as if she was in her mother's womb...

_The child of the past and of the future. _The words rose in her mind unbidden._ The one who was and will be. The one who came and will come. Different timelines, different destinies. This timeline is in danger; we must correct it immediately._

More voices, familiar and unfamiliar. _The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is an impossibility..._

The Aronians destroyed themselves; all that's left are ruins. The Aronians died, the Vulcans lived. The Aronians survived, the Vulcans died. Instead of the Vulcans, the Klingons arrived on Earth in 2063, and thus, the Terran-Klingon war had begun. The Aronians allied themselves with their warrior brothers, forged an agreement with the Xindi, and destroyed Earth.

Then time blinked. The Vulcans lived, the Aronians lived. Two warrior cultures, one matrilineal, one patriarchal, meeting for the first time. Surak and Hu'fase, two warriors for peace, one laughing at their foibles; the other wearing a slight smile, which was all he allowed himself...

Leen'da rose above it all and watched in mixed fascination and horror. She saw Joh'leen as a ruthless Clan Matriarch, leading her troops into battle. She saw herself as Yoshiko, a samurai woman from her own Terran history, defending her family from a rival clan. Then, suddenly, she saw a man, a tall blond one with the last name of Tucker, fighting on the field named Gettysburg in another bloody war between brothers, and she saw him fall in a hail of rifle fire...

A dark-skinned man, serving in North Africa during World War Three, against Khan Noonien Singh and his minions; he was a medic named Mayweather, comforting a patient with a bright grin and a laugh; and the patient looked familiar, with brown hair and green eyes, and the last name of Archer...and she watched helplessly as a shredder bomb ripped through the medical encampment, and the young medic died in his patient's arms...

Water swirled all around him, but he'd managed to seal the bulkheads, isolating the flooded engine room from the rest of the ship. He clung to the remains of the submarine engine as the level rose, his mouth moving silently in a prayer. _"Our Father, thou art in Heaven..." _His panic choked him as the water crept up to his neck, then his chin, but he knew that he'd bought time for his crewmates to escape, and he was going down with his ship, Her Majesty's Ship _Clement_, dying heroically, an honor to his namesake, a naval family named Reed...

Leen'da picked her way carefully; it was easy to reach out and shield the man in Gettysburg, or protect the medic or pluck the drowning man from a watery grave, but instinct told her not to. Her heart cried out, but a cold voice told her, _These deaths are necessary._

"Why?" she screamed. "Why am I seeing all this? This world is not my own---"

"But it is," interrupted a man's voice. "You just don't remember."

She whirled around. He wore the clothes of an Aronian soldier under General Hu'fase's command, but the features were too smooth, too unnatural to be Human. Leen'da didn't recognize him at first, but then she heard Joh'leen's cool voice over her shoulder.

"Daniels." Joh'leen appeared in her vision, but instead of her robes, she wore a snug, body-hugging fabric. Her long blonde hair had been cut into a severe style and colored brown, and her delicate ears tapered to a point. Leen'da gaped at her, a friend and a stranger at the same time.

The man called Daniels inclined his head in acknowledgment. "We meet again, Sub-Commander T'Pol, though I wish the circumstances were better."

"You brought us here," said Joh'leen/T'Pol. "Why?"

"Actually, I didn't. The timeline did. It called you back to a certain point of this people's history, so you can change it. The Aronians weren't supposed to die, but someone manipulated it so they were destroyed."

"The so-called 'Shadows'?"

Daniels's smile was enigmatic. "That's a good name for them, so with your permission, I'll steal it. They're behind what we call the Temporal Cold War, and their leader is quite...persuasive, like with the Suliban."

"Who is he?"

"I don't know his name...although 'Future Guy' will work as any."

T'Pol didn't quite roll her eyes and Leen'da giggled at the pained expression. "Your penchant for high drama is as prevalent as Commander Tucker's."

"Guilty as accused, Sub-Commander." His grin vanished as if it never been. "Your captain and the others have already made significant changes, much to the Shadows' annoyance. Needless to say, they've been a burr in the Shadows's non-existent side. Archer, most definitely, and Tucker as well, but Reed's really been a problem for them."

"Malcolm?" Leen'da whispered. The name made sense to her now. The man she knew as Dom'ni was Malcolm Reed, and she saw some of the changes that Daniels mentioned. _Dom'ni and Kan'nar were supposed to die in the bridge explosion, but they both survived. Malcolm and Trip survived and were able to change the course of the war. How?_

Daniels nodded. "Our intrepid Armory officer realized that the Shadows armed the enemy with some kind of ballistic missile, and now he's off to stop them. Alone."

The words flew out of Leen'da's mouth before she could stop them. "Is he crazy? He's going to get himself killed again! That lovable, suicidal fool has such a damnable death wish, and if he dies, I'm really gonna kill him!"

She clamped both hands over her mouth in horror. T'Pol raised her eyebrows and Daniels only gazed at her. The time-traveler gently placed his hands on either side of her face and whispered the words she'd heard in her waking dreams.

"_Who are you? What is your name? Where is your true heart?"_

She held herself still and gazed deep into those unnatural eyes. A wall broke deep within her, and memories flooded her mind. Not just any memories. _Hers_. She Remembered.

She Remembered it all. The music of more than fifty alien languages, the fear of the unknown, her insecurity being on the first Warp 5 starship, her growing maturity under the friendships of Jonathan Archer, T'Pol of Vulcan, Charles Tucker the Third, Travis Mayweather, Doctor Phlox of Denobula. Her growing love for Malcolm Reed, that difficult and taciturn Brit, who was a part of her now...

_Parted from me and never parted... _She recognized the Vulcan words, spoken in T'Pol's voice, and for the first time, appreciated and understood the bond between T'Pol and Trip.

The answers came in a rush."I am the daughter of my samurai ancestors. My name is Hoshi Sato. My true heart beats in defense of peace...and love. My heart belongs to my friends and the man I love."

Daniels nodded and said quietly, "And your friends and your lover are in danger, Hoshi Sato. Will you help us save them?"

She nodded, her mind crystal clear. Then she caught T'Pol's look of complete agreement. Hoshi looked up at Daniels and replied, "What do you want me to do?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Character Death (sort of...he's kinda dead, but not really...you'll find out)**

**Eight**

Dom'ni the Weaponsmaster crawled low along the stone wall that surrounded the Shadows' encampment. He glanced over his shoulder at two of his warriors and directed them with hand signals. They both nodded, faces both eager and resigned at the same time. They knew their orders and would follow them to the death, if needed.

Voices came closer to them and they pressed themselves into the wall, tucking themselves as small as possible. Dom'ni listened as the rough laughter and bellowing rose to a crescendo as the Shadows passed them. He got a good look at them: dressed head to toe in black silk, their faces shrouded in masks, with only their eyes visible. A nasty array of weaponry hung prominently on their belts; Dom'ni made a mental catalogue of them. Grappling hooks, knives, throwing projectiles, short swords. An occasional Shadow wore a square-shaped pouch, similar to the one he had given Leen'da. It most likely carried poisons, needles and monofilaments for a stealth attack. That meant that unlike the Aronians, the Shadows had both male and female warriors in their active ranks.

_Makes sense. Why ignore half of your potential warriors? If Hu'fase allowed it, it could double our forces. Tradition be damned!_ He shook his head. If that was the case, then Leen'da and Joh'leen would have been first in the ranks, and that was unacceptable to Dom'ni, not with his wife pregnant with his child.

He raised himself up and looked over the wall. The Shadows guarded their territory well; it had taken most of his tricks and training to get this far, but their guards patrolled the edge of their camp with a vigilance that made even him cringe. How was he going to get inside?

A lone Shadow stopped close to the wall. His hand reached for something on his belt, but didn't find it there. He groaned and shouted to his fellows to continue without him. The others jeered and catcalled him; he only shrugged and turned to go back through the wall's entrance. Just as he went around the corner, a hand snaked around and grabbed the Shadow by the neck. One soft crack and the man's body went limp.

"Wait for me here," Dom'ni ordered his men in a low voice. "If I'm not back before full moonrise, head back towards the General's camp."

"Yes, Weaponsmaster," they murmured. "Luck be with you."

"And with all of us," he answered as he finished putting on the Shadow's silk uniform. It was comfortable and easy to move around in. Then he slipped the explosives into the sash at his waist. He put the hood over his head and strolled through the entrance as if he belonged there. He nodded to several groups of patrols as he passed them. They stopped and bowed to him from the waist before going on their way. The Shadow uniform had no insignia, but apparently, the one he had disabled held some kind of command rank, for the others quickly got out of his way. It was relatively easy to find the weapons launcher; it toward over the Shadows' other buildings. As he came closer, the Shadows who were guarding it bowed to him, and one of them approached him.

"You've come to inspect the Gods' Hammer," she said. He only nodded and carefully hid his surprise that the head of the detail was a woman. "Good. We should be all ready for the attack. They won't even know what hit them."

He only chuckled low in his throat and approached the platform. Like the Aronian scout's drawing, it was basically a cylinder with a sharp tip, nestled in a sling, with its long fuse extending out of its base. The platform was mounted on stone wheels, with harness for beasts of burden to transport it. A rectangular box sat at the back of the platform, with an aiming device built into it.

"The Hammer is fully prepared," said the woman. "All it needs is the release, and it will fly true."

Dom'ni only grunted as he ducked under the cylinder itself. He could only feel a grudging respect for the Shadows' engineers; they had firmly tied it to the launcher with straps that could be removed quickly and easily at a moment's notice. The cylinder was made of a cold, smooth material he'd never seen before. He tugged at one of those straps with one hand, as if testing its strength. His other hand reached into his sash and withdrew his explosive. He slipped it between the cylinder and its platform, unseen by anyone.

He straightened up and nodded his approval. The woman's eyes crinkled in both relief and amusement. "I'm glad nothing is wrong. We had to construct this very quickly and there were some...accidents along the way. Perhaps you would want to inspect the others before we use them?" Dom'ni only inclined his head and gave her his coldest smirk. She couldn't see his mouth through the mask, but he knew she saw his approval in his eyes. The Shadow's eyes sparkled coldly in reply as she said, "This way."

He smirked again, this time for a different reason. _This is almost too easy. I must be doubly on my guard._

* * *

Dom'ni memorized the layouts of the four launchers. They were arranged in an arc between the Shadows' battle lines and the Aronians', all pointed towards General Hu'fase's stronghold. As he "inspected" and sabotaged each launcher, he listened to the conversation around him. As he worked on the fourth and last launcher, the Shadow woman's words caught his attention. 

"What an irony, to have their own explosives turned against them. I understand their Weaponsmaster was quite proud of his escapade at the bridge. I'd love to see his face when the stronghold's collapsing all around him, Ja'an."

That brought some quiet laughter. Then a soothing voice reminded her, "Remember, we must take as many of the general's family alive. Our benefactor told us they're special; he wants them. For his generosity, I think it's a simple request."

Another voice chimed in. "One of our spies told us how the general visits his women every night. He has his favorite one and now she's carrying his whelp. What kind of leader would break those bonds of trust for his own satisfaction, Ja'an?"

Dom'ni froze, his hand wedged under the platform. The other Shadows murmured agreement, their voices louder this time. "Even more reason to wipe those dishonorable scum from our land," said the woman again. "They speak of honor, then turn and do otherwise. Disgusting. My mother would've slit my father's throat if she'd caught him doing something like that. Then she'd do worse to the one he was with. And you know...I would probably help her do it."

There was a roar of approval, then the second man said, "Good, Kel'li. You have such fire for one so young. I knew you'd be happier with us than sewing up skin tears and wrapping bruises. A Healer's life was not for you."

"I wanted to do what I could," the Shadow named Kel'li said, her voice quiet again. "I wanted to bring honor to my family. No offense to you and your Healers, Ja'an, but---"

"You do that," said Ja'an, and Dom'ni could hear the affection in his voice. Obviously, Ja'an and Kel'li were close companions. "You do, and the Gods willing, they will be so proud of you if you fall in combat."

She laughed. "I plan not to fall, but at least I know I've done the best I could."

Dom'ni withdrew his hand and clenched his fingers in his fist. The words were like a brand through his heart: _He has his favorite one and now she's carrying his whelp. What kind of leader would break those bonds of trust for his own satisfaction? _Hu'fase and Leen'da? He couldn't believe that. To be sure, he ran through the past year in his mind; no, every time the general was in the field, so was he, and the rest of the time, Leen'da was under Joh'leen's watchful eye. If anything had happened, Joh'leen would have been obligated to tell him.

And the pride and love in Leen'da's voice when she had told him her surprise. No, this was just another one of the Shadows' lies. One to rattle his nerves---

_How would they know to say _that_ particular lie at _this_ particular moment? _The unsettling thought brought him up short. He rested his hand lightly at the knife hidden at his side. The woman named Kel'li crawled up next to him, her bright blue eyes bearing into his.

"Everything all right for launch?" she asked. At his brusque nod, she breathed a sigh of relief. "We needed to get this in place before tonight's attack. Come, I'm sure your men are ready for your return."

He only nodded again and followed her from under the platform. As he straightened, he caught a strange expression on one of the Shadows' face, a portly one with an friendly look in his eyes. That look was one of regret and sadness. That look stopped him for a minute.

And his body reacted without conscious thought. His arm shot out and blocked a knife aimed at his midsection. Kel'li stumbled, off balance, and he pushed Kel'li into the stocky Shadow's arms, causing both to tumble out of the way. Dom'ni took the opening and ran for it. Other Shadows broke in confusion; some saw his uniform and moved out of the way, others joined in the pursuit. Dom'ni leaped over barriers and flew around corners, leaped over a wall and escaped into the woods beyond.

He stumbled and fell into a tangle of bushes. The thorns caught and ripped the silk Shadow uniform; he managed to wriggle out of the torn silks. That was when he realized his right hand was covered with blood. A piercing pain radiated from his right hip, and he traced the trickle of blood to its source. There, in his side, was a thin sliver of a needle, no bigger than his little finger. It looked so innocuous, but words from a long-ago time echoed within his mind: _Poison. You don't even know you've been hit until it's too late. A woman's weapon. _

A smile twisted his lips. It appeared that Kel'li the Shadow woman had proved her worth in battle.

Another voice in his mind echoed:_ Either he really wanted his bases covered...or there's another tomb here._

Another tomb. Someone buried with Hu'fase. Leen'da? Was the rumor actually true? Were they---? He closed his eyes against another hot wave of pain. He didn't even have the strength to move from where he'd fallen. _I didn't even feel myself fall down. I can't even see anymore, I'm burning inside, I can't breathe..._

He heard hurried footsteps come on either side of him. "Weaponsmaster!" blurted out one of his soldiers. "We saw you running out of the Shadows' camp...did you---"

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "They strike tonight...attack the stronghold...four platforms, four of them---"

"We'll tell them, Weaponsmaster." He could hear the tears in the soldier's voice. "Just relax. We'll get help."

"No..time..." Now he was cold, so cold that his teeth chattered. "My wife...the general---"

"We'll tell them you died with honor." Both soldiers were openly weeping now. "We will beat them, Dom'ni. We will do it for you."

"I---" His breath stuck in his throat. He couldn't get the words out; a wave pulled him away before he could. He found himself hurtling through a dark tunnel, filled with stars, completely disoriented, then...

He opened his eyes to bright sun, streaming through a window...

_Bright sun? Where the bloody hell am I? _He jerked upwards and nearly fell off the couch he was lying on, and the heavy knitted comforter slithered to the floor. The low table shone with deep cherry highlights and reflected the high shelves all around, shelves filled with real books...

_Couch? Table? Comforter? Books? I'm in a library? _A noise made him whirl around to see a familiar man in the uniform of a steward...in the Royal Navy. The man held a tray with a silver teapot, two cups, and a small server of sugar.

"Daniels?" he growled.

"I figured we could talk over a cuppa, Lieutenant Commander Reed," Daniels said. His eyes were darkly sober. "I need your help. This isn't over yet."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.**

**Notes: Another character "falls"...kind of. (Any B5 fans out there? LOL)**

**Rating: T**

**Nine**

She felt him die.

It hit her all at once, a blow to her midsection, then a hot wave radiating from it to her limbs. A terrible burst of agony and anguish...then nothing. She stumbled and gripped the stones of the battlements, her nails scraping hard against the surface. Her breath came in gasps of pain; she much rather preferred the pain than the utter loneliness that flooded her body...

_He's dead, Malcolm's dead..._She managed to gulp in great breaths of air as her mind corrected itself: Dom'ni_ is the one who is dead. Daniels said he would save him, keep him safe from the Shadows. Malcolm's part in this is ended, and now we have to do ours..._

She clawed herself back to awareness. The women crowded all around her, chattering like a flock of geese. "My Lady, what's the matter? What's happened? Is something wrong with the child? Get the Healer!"

Joh'leen---_T'Pol, remember her real name, Hoshi_---pushed her way through the crowd. "The Lady is ill, make way! Steward, can you carry her to her chambers? Tet'lunae, send for the Healer. Ra'si, send a runner to the general's camp; if the Weaponsmaster can be spared, he must come to his wife at once. The rest of you---back to your tasks. We must protect Lady Leen'da from the Shadows, and to do that, we must make sure the fortress is secure! Go now!"

The women scattered as if broken by an evil spell. Hoshi found herself being lifted by Ta'lat, the Master Steward and carried deep into Hu'fase's stronghold. By the time they reached the chamber she'd shared with Dom'ni, the Healer and her assistant was there. T'Pol dismissed the Steward, and knelt at Hoshi's side as the Healer examined her. An eternity later, the Healer sighed and gestured for T'Pol to follow her, leaving the assistant with Hoshi.

"I fear for her life," the Healer said, not mincing words. "I have asked Assistant M'drea to give her potions to stabilize her condition, but this sudden shock has put her in danger. She is in no condition to be moved, if the Shadows attack."

"The child?"

"It is up to the Gods now," the Healer replied with a sad shake of her head. "I will do my best to help her recovery, but---"

"I understand." T'Pol swallowed, allowing her worry to show on her face. The cause of her worry was not what the Healer expected. _Hoshi has to survive to repair the timeline. Daniels needs time on his side, but we no longer have the time. I must take things in my own hands._

The Healer shook her head again. "Please, stay by her side, Lady Joh'leen. Her husband is in the field, and she needs family around her now."

"Be assured that I will not leave her, Healer. She must live." T'Pol nodded as the Healer hurried off, presumably to fetch more medicines for Leen'da. She turned on her heel and returned to Hoshi's side. Her eyes were wide and glazed, but Hoshi seemed lucid.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

"Yes," Hoshi whispered.

"Then let us begin." T'Pol gently touched Hoshi's face, seeking the psi points there. She felt a tenuous connection between them; it began to strengthen, then strength began to flow from her to Hoshi. "_H'rak dunoime,"_ she whispered in Vulcan, and she knew Hoshi understood. "_My mind to yours, my strength to yours..."_

* * *

Dusk fell over Hu'fase's encampment. Master Builder Kan'nar wiped grimy sweat from his forehead, but he surveyed his men's work with pride. The strange launchers weren't pretty, but he saw the deadly elegance in the simple design. Dom'ni's men grunted as they set the last cylinder in place and fastened it to the platform with straps. His smile turned nasty as he considered the havoc they'd make, once they turned the Shadows' weapons against them.

He leaned against the tactical table; Hu'fase had ordered it moved outside, so he could keep an eye on the situation and the build site at the same time. Kan'nar worried about Dom'ni; how was the Weaponmaster's mission going? Was he going to return? _He'd damned well _better_ return or I'll kill him myself._

Another slight tremor went through him; Kan'nar scowled again and looked around for its source. It had been happening all day, but when he'd asked everyone else if they'd felt it, they said that they hadn't. Kan'nar was more than willing to chalk it up to the build team, or his own overworked imagination, but his instincts warned him of something more sinister.

Then again, he'd always had the ability to feel things that others couldn't. The slightest vibrations through the earth, the rumble of a storm...

_...the uneven rhythm of a warp core that wasn't perfectly balanced. He couldn't sleep unless it was exactly perfect..._

A chorus of shouts interrupted the unfamiliar thought. Kan'nar whirled around to see two of Dom'ni's best men stagger into the camp, both bruised and bloodied. The commotion drew the build team's attention, and General Hu'fase strode out of the tent. Hu'fase gazed at the two men, then his face became a hard mask. Kan'nar felt a hard lump in his throat; he wanted to cry out, but found that he was paralyzed to the spot.

Dom'ni's men stumbled to their knees in front of Hu'fase. "Report," the general said in an icy tone. "Where's the Weaponsmaster? Was your mission successful?"

The older of the two looked up at the general, his eyes bloodshot. Kan'nar closed his eyes and knew the awful truth before it was said. Grief welled up in his chest, grief and rage.

"He succeeded, General, at a great cost. The explosives were placed where they should be; once the Shadows use their weapons, they will explode within their own compound. The Weaponsmaster escaped from them...but he was gravely wounded." The man took a deep breath, his voice suddenly failed him. It took him several attempts before he whispered, "He wanted you to know the Shadows have four platforms and they plan to launch them tonight."

Hu'fase closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "Then there is no time to waste. Master Builder!"

"General!" Kan'nar replied, his voice harsh but steady. His hand gripped the edge of the tactical table so hard his knuckles were white.

"Consult with the scouts and turn the platforms to face the Shadows. We will hit them first and destroy them utterly. With the Gods' blessing, we should hit some of their platforms and ignite them. The explosions should be visible even here." Hu'fase turned to his advisors. "Assemble the troops. We march tonight and strike the final blow."

"Yes, General!" the men shouted.

Hu'fase drew his sword and held it aloft. "For Dom'ni!"

"For Dom'ni!"

Kan'nar hurriedly consulted with the scouts and directed his men to move the platforms into position. He saw Hu'fase coming towards him with long strides; the green eyes were as cold as Dom'ni's had been, and there would be no mercy. There was something else in the general's expression that frightened Kan'nar even more.

"Leen'da," Kan'nar said quietly. "She's probably heard the news by now."

"Yes," Hu'fase whispered. "The news will break her heart."

"Her child...and Dom'ni's?"

The general's mouth tightened. "It's up to the Gods now."

Kan'nar swallowed hard and knew Hu'fase was right. The guilt and grief in his eyes were mirrored within Hu'fase's own. "Joh'leen will keep her safe."

"Yes." Hu'fase said. He clapped the Master Builder on the shoulder. "Launch the projectiles at moonrise, Kan'nar. We end this tonight."

"And you?"

His expression showed no emotion. "I'll be at the front of our troops. I owe Dom'ni a great debt...and a great penance." Before Kan'nar could question that last statement, he turned and strode away without looking back.

_What the hell is that supposed to mean? _Kan'nar shook his head and returned to his men. The sense of unease gnawed at him; a horrible dread lingered at the back of his mind._ Keep her safe, Joh'leen, _he silently pleaded._ Keep her safe._

* * *

The Healer returned to the Lady Leen'da's chamber with another dose of her potions. Her assistant kept watch at the door. No one was to disturb Lady Leen'da or Lady Joh'leen under any circumstances, save for the Healer. She raised her eyebrows at the silence.

"No one has disturbed them," said her assistant. "It has been utterly quiet."

"Too quiet," the Healer replied. "Open the door."

They both entered the chamber together. The Healer withdrew the curtain around Lady Leen'da's bed. The sight made her drop the precious beaker of medicine; it shattered on the tile floor. For the Lady Joh'leen lay in peaceful repose at Lady Leen'da's side, eyes closed, her hand clasping Leen'da's, and her face drained of all color.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Sorry for the delay in updating this one. I've been busy with finishing "Boomer Bust" and working on "Deadly Negotiations" in between setting up speech therapy and occupational therapy for my daughter, making other writing deadlines and generally going crazy. LOL.**

**Thank you for all the reviews so far. Keep 'em coming! I really do appreciate the feedback.**

**Rating: T**

**R/S pairing**

**Ten**

Malcolm sat back as he tried to understand what Daniels was telling him. The teacup stood empty for the third or fourth time. He moved to refill it, but Daniels took the pot and expertly poured another cup. He nodded his thanks, sipped at it in silence, as his mind raced over the information.

"You said you didn't bring us back. Then who did?"

Daniels sighed again. "Ever since the Temporal Cold War began, we've identified several disruptions in the continuum. One of them occurred when your captain was presumed dead after the Xindi Sphere exploded, but you corrected that. This is another one."

"And you didn't warn us?" Malcolm felt his temper rise. Hoshi, T'Pol. Captain Archer and Trip were still there!.

"The time distortion grew without warning and pulled you and your crew in before any of us had time to inform you. The Universe tries to keep itself in balance, Commander, and this is one way it achieves it." Daniels sipped from his own cup. "Dom'ni the Weaponsmaster was supposed to die long before you did. By surviving long enough to warn Hu'fase and the others, you helped change Aronian history."

Malcolm shook his head. "Then why are the others still trapped there?"

"Because the story isn't over yet. At this moment, both sides are aiming their missile platforms at each other, and at nightfall, they will launch their weapons and destroy each other. Thus, history still has the potential to repeat itself."

"There's got to be something we can do—"

A calm voice interrupted him. "There is, Commander, but we must act in concert with Hoshi, Commander Tucker and the Captain. There is no time to lose...if you gentlemen will excuse the expression."

Malcolm almost dropped his tea cup, but Daniels dove and saved it from becoming tiny pieces on the floor. "T'Pol!" he shouted as he got to his feet. His heart tightened with fear at the sight of her. "If you're here, then...Hoshi's unprotected!"

"Her life was in danger, Malcolm. I gave her the strength to survive." The Vulcan raised her eyebrows at Daniels. "My part in the story is also ended."

"What do we do now?"

Daniels exchanged nods with T'Pol. Then he said, "The three of us must return to the Aronia of your timeline and seal the vortex of the disturbance. That way, the Shadows can't tamper with the continuum from that particular point ever again. And if we do that...we'll put a foot up Future Guy's bloody arse, to borrow your vernacular, Commander."

"Future Guy?"

A smile played on T'Pol's lips as she replied, "Mister Daniels' colorful name for the head of the Shadows. He is the one who recruited the Suliban."

Malcolm groaned. "You're as bad as Trip."

Daniels chuckled and said, "So the sub-commander tells me. Well, are you both ready? We have an appointment, and we can't be late for this one."

* * *

An eyeblink later, Malcolm and T'Pol found themselves on the surface of Aronia, in front of the archaeologists' tent. The wind whipped it to and fro, the ropes creaking as they fought to keep it upright. T'Pol ducked into the tent, but came out just as fast.

"No one is there. Doctor Yumisa must have evacuated everyone to the ship." She grabbed her communicator on her belt. "T'Pol to _Enterprise_. Come in, _Enterprise."_

Malcolm thought he heard Travis Mayweather's voice over the static, but it was quickly overwhelmed. He shook his head. "Too much interference."

Daniels stood several meters away from them, scanning the area with his equipment. Malcolm noticed his hair remained in place, in spite of the wind. "I found it!" Daniels shouted. "It's this way!"

They took off at a run, fighting against the wind and debris as it whipped past them. Malcolm realized that they were headed for Hu'fase's tomb. The prospect of being in the water again made him nauseous, but to his shock, the steps leading underground were bone dry and the walls were intact. There was no sign of the destruction caused by the flooding river.

At the burial chamber, Malcolm stopped suddenly at the sight of the walls. He clearly recalled the piles of weaponry that surrounded the general's body, the murals the depicted Hu'fase's great victory over the Shadows. Instead of weaponry were marble chests edged with gold, pots sealed with wax, stone tablets and sculpted figurines. There wasn't a spear or poisoned needle in sight.

He found his hand automatically rubbing his side, at the point where Dom'ni had been hit. He pressed his lips together and forced himself to drop his hand.

"The distortion's getting stronger," Daniels said. "I can't get a clear fix on it, though. The frequency keeps changing. I'll have to recalibrate my sensor."

"Daniels! Commander! Over here!" T'Pol called. Malcolm went over to where she was standing, a scanner in hand. "This open doorway leads to a maze of tunnels and rooms. It seems to extend for hundreds of kilometers."

"We don't have the time to hunt through hundreds of kilometers of tunnels, Sub-Commander."

Daniels appeared at his side and ran his sensor up and down the opening. "We won't have to, Malcolm. I'm getting the signal loud and clear. This way."

They entered the tunnel in single file: Daniels with his sensor, then T'Pol, and Malcolm took up the rear. He knew that circumstances were changing around him as fast as he could think. When he and Trip were first at Hu'fase's tomb, the entrance to this maze hadn't existed. Or more precisely, it hadn't been accessible. The air within the tunnel crackled with electricity and the walls shimmered and glowed as he watched. It seemed the elegant Aronian characters were shifting, fading, from one minute to the next. The murals, bright and fresh as the day they were painted, reshaped and reformed themselves.

He forced himself to gaze at the back of T'Pol's head, for the movement was making him dizzy. _Eyes forward, chap! Now's not the time to get motion sickness! Hoshi's depending on you!_

They passed an open room, and Malcolm paused at its entrance. He traced the stylized characters on the lintel of the doorway with his finger. His knowledge of the Aronian ancient language was fading, but he remembered enough to read the two names entwined there.

_Dom'ni. Leen'da. Forever joined, never separated. _A heavy weight rolled off his heart. _They were buried together. She wasn't with Hu'fase. _Immediately underneath the two names was a third, _Dom'se'nar. Warrior of Peace, Soul-Brother of Surak._

"What?" he stammered aloud. "It's not possible...our—their_—_son, a friend of Surak of Vulcan?"

"Commander?" T'Pol's voice startled him and he whirled around. "What did you say?"

He only pointed at the inscription. Her look of complete astonishment shattered any fiction of Vulcans not possessing any emotions. She stared dumbly at him, then back at the writing. Suddenly, she gasped and said, "The inscription is vanishing!"

Like the other characters on the walls, it seemed to shudder and curl upon itself, then fading before strengthening again. "Come on, Sub-Commander. We have to hurry or this won't happen."

They both hurried to catch up with Daniels.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Lots of action here. Our heroes and heroine left in the past make one last effort to change history.**

**Spoilers: One mention of "Trip's Horse Incident" from "North Star".**

**Rating: T for language**

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**Eleven**

Kan'nar nodded to his assistant as they positioned the last launcher far beyond the stronghold walls. He sighed and gauged the sun on the horizon. Sundown in an hour, first moonrise three after that, then second moonrise another three. Seven hours until launch. Seven hours for Hu'fase's march to the Shadows' main encampment. Seven hours until victory.

He sighed and wiped sweat off his forehead. Was it just him, or had the humidity increased since Hu'fase's departure? Were the Gods sending a storm on the eve of this important battle? It would be quite the irony, for neither side could use their platforms if it rained. Water rendered the long fuses and volatile explosives unusable.

_Dom'ni, I'm sure you're doing all you can to convince the Gods _not _to let it rain. They wouldn't be so cruel as to make your sacrifice worthless. You'd be the perfect messenger, considering you hate—hated---the water. _Kan'nar wiped a drop of sweat from his eye...or was that a tear? _You prickly, stubborn, taciturn, somma bitch...God, I miss you already. _

That last thought brought him up short. He realized he'd muttered it aloud...and it wasn't his voice. Well, it was, but...what kind of accent was that? Another disturbing thought: his inner monologues were colored by that accent...and other stray pictures intruded on his consciousness. Visions of weaponry similar to the Shadows' platforms, of a tall cylinder glowing with contained power, one that fueled a ship that didn't run on water...

He reached out automatically for Joh'leen's presence in his mind. She was worried, but that worry was tempered by an unnatural calm. Then he felt an alien power, energy moving from her to someone else. His heart froze in panic as he felt their bond weaken steadily. Something, someone was _draining_ her soul...and it wasn't a swift process. She lingered for a moment, and he felt a light brush on his lips, like a kiss of farewell.

"No!" he screamed, as the warmth faded and left a cold pit in his heart. Somehow he ended up on the ground, his men all around him in confusion, then blackness claimed him.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he realized he was in the command tent. His mind registered that much, but he didn't care. She was gone. The only one that made life worth living was gone. 

"The fever has abated," whispered a Healer, "but the shock has unsettled his mind. I am afraid he is in no condition to command the launch."

A second voice replied, "Gods...first, Dom'ni, now Kan'nar. We must finish the mission the general has given us. What time is it?"

"The first moon is in the sky. The general told us to wait until full moonrise before striking."

"But I don't like the look of those approaching clouds. If we wait that long, it might rain before we have the opportunity."

"But we need to give General Hu'fase and his troops time to settle into position. If we attack too early, they might be within the range of the explosions. We'd destroy our own army."

"The rain would make the platforms useless. That would mean our troops would be outnumbered on the field. We can't allow that."

"Would you disobey the general's direct orders?"

"Would you ensure the general's destruction, along with our entire army?"

Kan'nar tried to move, but he couldn't lift a finger. The two arguing soldiers moved out of the tent. He gritted his teeth and managed to raise his head slightly, but the effort was too much and he had to fall back on the pillow. _I have to warn Hu'fase. Our own people might blast him out of existence. The only thing that matters is wiping out the Shadows, no matter what the cost. But what will we do if Hu'fase's dead? We'd turn on each other. The Shadows will triumph in the end anyway._

His hate for the enemy was strong, but his loyalty to his friend was stronger.

_What the hell. I might not be around to see the outcome anyway, but at least I can try. _He braced his forearms on the bed and pushed himself up on his elbows with a grunt. Slowly, he forced himself to a sitting position. The strain nearly caused him to collapse again, but he squeezed his eyes shut until the world stopped spinning around him. If just trying to get up did this to him, how was he going to reach Hu'fase? The general was leagues away.

Then he heard the scream of an animal. A pack animal? The sound of galloping hooves approached the tent, then stopped at the entrance. The guards' voices rose in protest, but the front flap parted to reveal an unexpected visitor.

"Leen'da?" Kan'nar rasped. "What are you doing here? What happened to Joh'leen? I felt her in my mind—"

Leen'da gazed at him with unshed tears in her eyes. "She sacrificed her life to save mine, Kan'nar," she answered. "Now we're all in danger. We must warn Hu'fase. We must save him."

"How?" He tried to stand, but found he could not. "He must be almost at the Shadows' compound by now."

"We'll have to hurry. I borrowed one of the advisors' fastest steeds. Come on, we don't have much time."

"But...your child—" His objection went unheard as she ordered two of his men to help him out of the tent. The tone of her voice and the fury on her face overrode their protests. They gently coaxed him to his feet, supported his weight as they helped him out of the tent, and lifted him onto the steed. He managed to stay on as they tied on the straps that would hold him in place. Lee'nda climbed in front of him and took the reins. She winced and put a hand on her abdomen; her movement made him forget his own nausea.

"Leen'da, let me go. You're in even worse condition than I am..."

She shook her head. "No, you and Hu'fase need me." Leen'da gave him a weak smile. "You'll understand later."

He closed his mouth. Once she had made up her mind, there was no swaying her otherwise. That tenacity and strength had attracted Dom'ni to her in the first place, though it had also been a source of his frustration. Kan'nar was determined to protect his friend's wife at all costs.

Leen'da urged the steed on, and they rushed headlong into the darkness.

* * *

The ground flew under them at a dizzying pace. Hoshi Sato concentrated on the goal ahead, ignoring the stabbing pain within her body. T'Pol had bought her time, but she could already feel that strength fading from her. Kan'nar—_Trip_—hung on to the saddle for dear life. For some reason, it reminded her of the time when the _Enterprise_ crew was on that Old Western planet. T'Pol's memory was sharp, as if it was her own. _I've seen all the John Ford Westerns...how hard could it be?_ She repressed a grin and thought, _A hundred Westerns seen does not a cowboy make, Trip._

Although she had never been this way, instinct guided her. She concentrated on Hu'fase's—_Jon Archer's_—soul. It was strong and steady, a beacon through the night. He was her mentor, her rock of strength, her guide. It was a different love than the one she had for Malcolm, or for Trip or even for Travis. Hoshi closed her eyes; these men, and T'Pol, were her family. _For better or for worse. From life to life and beyond. _She had never believed in reincarnation; she was a woman of the 22nd century. But there were things in the universe that weren't explained. This was one of them. Cold wind blew over her skin and made her shiver. She felt Kan'nar automatically draw her closer to him, his larger frame breaking some of the wind. Her consciousness flitted between worlds and it took her an effort to stay in this one for now.

"I can see the second moon," he shouted directly into her ear. "It's just over the treetops."

"How long until it's at full moonrise?" she yelled back.

"An hour, perhaps an hour and a half, but no longer than that. We're not going to reach Hu'fase in time!"

She responded by urging the steed faster, but it was quickly tiring after galloping at full speed for over two hours. Aronian steeds were bred for endurance, but this was at the outside edge of it. They burst out of a stand of bushes and found a wide track, cut into the underbrush. They could hear the sounds of battle up ahead, of men fighting and dying.

"We're too late!" Kan'nar cried.

"Not yet!" Just as they neared the battlefield, the heavens opened up and wept. Huge torrents of water washed over them and soaked them to the bone. Hoshi blinked drops out of her eyes, but her vision remained blurry. The pain came and went in waves, but she hung on.

They arrived in the middle of chaos. Many Shadow and Aronian warriors already lay motionless on the ground where they fell. A low stone wall marked the Shadows' compound. Fire ravaged their main temple and smoke hissed as the rain struck it. A wave of smoke rolled over the field and obscured Hoshi's and Kan'nar's vision.

Hoshi coughed and waved smoke from her face. Kan'nar raised his arm to shield his eyes. Their eyes watered and their lungs burned, but they plunged onward, the steed heading unwavering towards its target, General Hu'fase. There was a bright flash overhead and she looked up to see—a shooting star?—make its way through the heavens. It moved too fast for a shooting star, it was too bright...

"They launched their weapons early!" Kan'nar screamed. "It'll hit us—I thought the rain would make them useless..."

"Obviously, someone wants to make sure they're functional enough," she muttered grimly.

The sky rumbled and grew brighter as another flash erupted to the east. The Shadows had tried to launch their own counterattack, but Dom'ni's bomb went off in a spectacular display. A column of fire pierced the sky. A second tremor struck them as another Shadow platform went up in flames. Then, the third.

Hoshi saw Hu'fase, swinging his sword at the enemy. The general was fighting with an arrow buried deep within his left shoulder; he was weakening, and the ring of Shadows around him was moving for the kill.

She dropped the reins, reached for the knife pouch at her belt, and grabbed a knife in each hand. She screamed a war cry, and as the Shadows whirled to face this new intruder, let them fly. Kan'nar unhooked the straps that held him to the saddle and launched himself at Hu'fase, placing his body between the general and the Shadow's sword. Hu'fase cried out in pain as Kan'nar's weight hit him, knocking him into the mud.

Hoshi's deadly accuracy mowed down some of the Shadow defenders, but there were more pouring into the gap as they fell. Finally, the steed took a blade in its flank; it buckled and threw her. She felt her ribs crack as she hit the ground a few meters from Hu'fase and the pain made her see stars.

The ground shuddered and the light in the sky became brighter as the missile came closer to the compound. Panic finally broke the Shadow lines and they fled into the forest, trying to get themselves out of the blast zone. Hoshi dragged herself the remaining distance between her and Hu'fase. He looked up at her, pain and resignation on his face. Kan'nar lay between them, his eyes glazing, his body shaking with every breath he took. A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.

"He's still alive, but he's fading fast," Hu'fase whispered. "I'm sorry, we've failed..."

She shook her head and whispered back, "He gave his life for yours, like he's done so many times before. Do you remember?"

Hu'fase was silent for a second, then comprehension finally dawned in his eyes. "Yes, I remember." He glanced down at the dying man in his lap. "_Trip..."_

He managed a smile and gripped Archer's hand. "Anytime, _Cap'n_," he whispered, "but next time, don't call me. I'll call you."

Hoshi placed one hand on Jon's shoulder, the other on Trip's. _Come on, Daniels. We_'_re together now. Me. Jon. Trip. Now get us out of here—_

The sun seemed to explode all around them, and at the last minute, Hoshi thought she felt a pair of hands jerk her backwards. Her surroundings dissolved, as if she'd been caught by a transporter beam. She couldn't feel her body anymore, and she couldn't sense Jon or Trip...

_Malcolm, I love you,_ was her last thought.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Story's almost at an end, just this chapter and the Epilogue to go.**

**R/S and T/T'P**

**Rating: T**

**Twelve**

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"There!" Daniels yelled. "In there!" He pointed at a chamber at the end of the a long hallway. "The signal just spiked over two hundred percent!"

They plunged into the chamber. Malcolm realized the floor was covered with something that looked like translucent ice and was just as slippery. Daniels went down with a crash, his sensor flying out of his hand. T'Pol stumbled, and even Vulcan grace couldn't stop her from landing in an undignified sprawl. Her arm shot out and grabbed Malcolm to steady herself, but it only knocked him further off balance. He landed hard and skidded further on the floor on his stomach. There was nothing to grab hold to stop his forward progress. He cursed like an English sailor as he slid on momentum alone.

The hard floor under him became less yielding, softer. Malcolm had a horrible thought of plunging under the floor into water. Finally, he slowed down and stopped. He could feel energy on his skin, like static electricity, and smell ozone in the air. Cold wind passed over him, making his teeth chatter.

He cautiously lifted his head. Ahead of him, the floor seemed to glow and ripple like a silver lake. Green lettering writhed within the ice like a living thing. _More Aronian characters, like the ones on the walls, _Malcolm thought. _History literally changing in an eyeblink._

"Be careful, Commander," T'Pol called. "We are close to your position."

"Can you see anything from where you are?" added Daniels.

Malcolm craned his head, trying not to make any abrupt movements. "The surface is glowing...I can see images in the light, but they're too fuzzy to make out."

"It's the center of the vortex," Daniels said. "All the possible pasts, the possible presents, the possible futures. We have to wait for the precise moment to pull the captain and the others out."

"How do we do that? I can barely keep from sliding forward as it is."

"Put your hand in mine, Commander," T'Pol answered as she came up behind him. Malcolm took it, and Daniels took her other hand. Together they inched towards the vortex, slowly, so slowly. When they reached the edge, Daniels let go and managed to push himself up to a sitting position.

"It's more stable here, but it's still slippery. Watch yourselves. You don't want to fall in."

Malcolm muttered under his breath as he sat up. The edges of the silver pool seemed to withdraw into itself, like a tidal wave returning to sea. The vortex was shrinking, but the maelstrom within in churned harder. He could feel the power gathering, ready to explode outward and destroy anything in its path, including this timeline.

"Malcolm, T'Pol, we're coming up on the right moment," Daniels shouted. "We need to grab the Captain, Commander Tucker and Hoshi and pull them towards us. We only have one shot at this."

Malcolm nodded. He could see smoke, explosions, watery images, columns of fire. T'Pol carefully crept next to him, her eyes fixed on the view below them. _Hoshi, where are you? C'mon. luv, where are you? Trip, _thy'la_, hear me. I am with thee, follow the sound of my voice..._

Daniels was a lot more direct. "Archer, show your stubborn ass before I kick it halfway across the universe!"

An image flickered in front of them. Shadow soldiers fleeing the destruction, and among them, three figures huddled in a group, two men and a woman. They clung to each other as the sky grew brighter around them, and the ground began to tremble...

Malcolm, T'Pol and Daniels moved as one. They thrust their hands into the swirling vortex. Malcolm felt Hoshi's shoulders under his palms and with one swift jerk, pulled her backwards. T'Pol did the same with Trip, and Daniels with Jon.

At that moment, time and space exploded outward. A roar of anger and frustration echoed over the universe as it realigned itself...a cunning plan foiled, a scheme broken. Above it all was one malevolent thought:

_Next time. I will be back, even stronger than ever, and you will not stop me. _


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Here is the Epilogue to the story. The correct timeline has been restored, but there are a few surprises left.**

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for coming on this rollercoaster of a ride! Hope you enjoyed it:)**

**Epilogue**

Lieutenant Hoshi Sato sat under a tree near the temple, her PADD next to her. She blinked in confusion as her awareness came back to her in a rush. _What the—?_ A low bell echoed over the temple, calling the devout to prayer. An Aronian priestess stood on the marble steps, her arms raised over her head, chanting a welcome to the gods. Without breaking cadence, she glanced at Hoshi and gave the communications officer a bright smile. It reminded Hoshi of her grandmother, _Oba-chan_.

She tucked a stray strand of hair back into her bun. It was noon and the heat and humidity had climbed steadily since morning. Her PADD held a comparative analysis of Ancient Aronian and Old High Vulcan. There were some similarities, considering their shared history, but enough deviation to ensure their unique cultural developments.

"_Mh'ayna, su ra'heihain liea'da?"_ came a voice at her elbow.

She blinked again and she saw the green eyes of a girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. The child wore a flowing costume of blue silk that brought out the color. Hoshi's mind automatically broke the question into words and translated them: Lady, are you well? Is there anything I can do? The spoken language was relatively simple for her because it was similar to T'Pol's dialect of Vulcan.

"I'm sorry," she replied in the same dialect. "My mind was elsewhere."

The child laughed, her voice like bells. The happiness lit up her face like a candle, and Hoshi suddenly realized how pretty she was. Just like her father, the high consul of Aronia. Captain Archer and Sub-Commander T'Pol were deep in negotiations with Consul Hu'dom'nar, while Malcolm was reviewing the Aronian troops with their Planetary Commander. Trip and the Aronian engineers were hammering out an agreement for spare parts for _Enterprise._

"_Mh'ayna_, I am your escort through the marketplace. My name is Leen'la." The girl curtsied. "I am the daughter of Re'na and Su'rat'se, bonded to Nu'bah."

Hoshi nodded gravely at the formal introduction. "My name is Hoshi. I am the daughter of Ryu and Michio, bonded to Malcolm."

"Ma'com? The Weaponsmaster? He is your _bondmate_?" Leen'la's eyes went wide. Suddenly, Hoshi had to suppress an urge to laugh herself; there was a gleam of hero-worship in the girl's eyes. If Hoshi didn't know better, she would've said Leen'la had a crush on Malcolm.

"Yes," she said with a chuckle. "Have you met him?"

"No, but I watched as Father talked with him and the Master Builder...Father said he was the Weaponsmaster for your ship of the stars," Leen'la chattered. "I am in training to be a Warrior and I am curious about the fighting styles of other worlds and—"

"Your father is the High Consul?" Hoshi smiled. "Su'rat'se?"

She blushed. "Yes, _Mh'ayna_. Forgive my boldness. It's just that I've never met anyone like you and your bondmate, though Humans come here all the time to trade."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"The Master Builder and the Weaponsmaster are _Gei'du,_ aren't they?"

"_Gei'du?_"

"Brothers? Not by blood, but—" Leen'la gestured in the air as she tried to put the concepts into words. "—by fire. All three of them, the two and your _caap'teen_." She said the title in English.

Hoshi thought for a moment. _Interesting that she was able to deduce that just by seeing them once. This girl's special, I can see that already. _"Yes, that's a good way to put it. How could you tell?"

"I can tell." Leen'la only shrugged and smiled.

Hoshi's grin grew wider. "Very perceptive, Lady Leen'la. Can you show me your marketplace? I must find a birthday gift for the Weaponsmaster."

"Of course, _Mh'ayna._ Come this way." She led Hoshi past the main temple and into the market square. People of many worlds gathered here to sell, buy and barter, and the babble of different languages rose above it. The signs on the stalls were in three languages: Earth Standard English, Modern Aronian, and Vulcan. Hoshi smiled; the Vulcans and the Aronians had met not long after Surak's death, and his teaching had influenced both cultures.

_Both of them turned away from war to a culture of peace, but not passivity._ Hoshi sighed and glanced around her. She felt at home here, which was odd, but she welcomed the feeling.

"Come, Leen'la. Let's look around."

* * *

A brown-haired Human in the clothes of a trader watched them from a nearby stall. He smiled to himself. The _Enterprise_ crew had exceeded his expectations again. They would have no memory of the flawed timeline; according to them, the Aronians had always existed. In this new history, the Gods had sent rain to disable the platforms, and Hu'fase's forces and the Shadows had fought to a stand still. Eventually, Hu'fase extended the hand of peace and united the planet under his guidance. Years later, the Vulcans arrived in their version of First Contact, a year to the day that both Hu'fase and Surak had died. Two great men at the same time, on different worlds and both held in reverence.

Daniels's smile faded as he focused on the future. The threat wasn't gone, by any means. He knew that Future Guy (he had to chuckle at the name. It still sounded like something Commander Tucker would say) would be back and plot his revenge on Daniels and the _Enterprise_. He'd need their help again, sooner or later, but now that the timeline was now on track, there were certain momentous occasions he looked forward to.

He watched Hoshi Sato as she and Leen'la disappeared in the hubbub of the Aronian marketplace. Daniels's smile returned as he regarded Hoshi's retreating figure.

"You don't know it yet, but you and the Weaponsmaster will receive a gift in the very near future, Hoshi," he said softly. "The very near future."


End file.
